The Boy with Black Hair
by Lisilgirl
Summary: Where did bleach-blonde Claire get a dark-haired boy?
1. Micah

_A/N: I am terribly in love with Heroes. It started out as a mere amusement to a nerdy, I-know-everything (even the fake characters backgrounds, ages, and significant others). This was the love child of an overactive imagination and reading too many fanfictions too late at night. Hope you enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own or take credit for the creation of _Heroes_. This is meant for entertainment use only._

**Warnings: Some language, insinuations for incest and rape, and one night stands. PeterxClaire; ClairexSylar**

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The Boy with Black Hair

_Micah Sanders_

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Seated at his desk, the curly haired man huffed a sigh. Outside the wooden-framed window, he could smell the air of New Orleans. His computer hummed contently at his side, cursor still blinking over his college assignment on the controversy surrounding specials.

In his dark hand, he held a picture.

Last time he'd seen Claire was last year's Christmas photo: a mass of blonde hair curled into perfection atop a flawless face and sparkling green eyes. Her smile was brilliant. The only surprising thing about her unchanging looks was the baby boy settled on her lap.

After the incident in Central Park, Claire Bennet had vanished from the radar. She had only reappeared when the law was amended to cover specials, albeit with some restrictions; those included a regular five-month check in with the EHHCA a.k.a. the Evolved Human Help and Control Administration. She had even taken up several recruiting gigs from her monthly paycheck. Seven years had passed in the blink of an eye.

Micah shook his head, rolling his eyes at the overly fluffy message on the bottom of the card: _-Micah you Rebel! Love always, from Claire and Noah!_

The University life was great. Too bad that technology entranced him more than parties (where the girls basically stripped to nothing and the guys got stoned) down on the beaches. His roommate was shocked at his discontent with a social life. Micah thought he had one. Two nights ago, while following an email thread on server IPs from Mohinder to Matt discussing Matty, Molly, and the prospects of raising special children Claire's name had popped up.

Mohinder had been coy about the whole issue. His message was: _I spoke with Claire and little Noah last week. Have you heard anything?_

Matt's reply had been: _Gotta be Sylar's. Remember how he forced her on college campus?_

Micah sighed. He shouldn't be doing this. He really shouldn't. Touching the computer's screen, he sent a text.

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	2. Mohinder

_A/N: I found that writing Mohinder was great fun._

_Disclaimer: I do not own or take credit for the creation of _Heroes_. This is meant for entertainment use only._

**Warnings: Same as first chapter.**

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The Boy with Black Hair

_Dr. Mohinder Suresh_

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Mohinder was doubting his sanity.

Only last week, Molly had demanded to return with him to the United States after hearing from Matt. She said she was missing her 'other father', and wanted to check for scholarships and colleges dedicated to specials interested in finding 'dangerous' specials and rehabilitating them. The irony was not lost upon Dr. Suresh. Had his education and research influenced her to join the search for specials under the EHHCA? Or was that her ability talking?

His advances in research (most of which had been from studying Matty Jr. and Matt) had made him a highly sought after special/doctor. In fact, the President of India had offered an increased salary and status as a dignitary to the United States. Just the thought of being a politician like Nathan Petrelli had made him skittish.

Then there was the invitation to the 515 Kirby Plaza Building, courtesy of the Petrelli Foundation.

In the dark, Mohinder stared at his computer screen, dark eyes beginning to water. Claire's call had been quick and to the point, but not rude.

_He picked up the phone, harassed by Molly's indignant frown, saying sharply, "This is Dr. Suresh."_

"_Mohinder? Are you okay?"_

_The voice of the cheerleader made him start. Incredulous, he answered, "Oh yes, I am sorry Claire." Giving his adopted daughter a look that told her there would be discussion later, he asked pleasantly, "Can I help you?"_

"_It's why I called." There was a slight pause, in which she sounded like she was placing a pot on the stove. He heard the water –or maybe her flesh- hissing. "Noah has been levitating."_

Not a shock. Everybody in that family has a power._ "And?"_

_It was here that Claire sighed. "I don't know what to do. Should I try to get him to stop? I mean, one minute he's in his bed and the next he's trying to get into the freezer for ice cream." There was a slight noise in the background and a child's giggle. "He's five, Mohinder; I thought powers didn't manifest this early."_

"_Typically, there are lulls. Breaks. As a baby, you survived a fire didn't you? Until 21, you'll probably still mature until your body is at its healthiest. Molly and Micah had abilities at young ages. Think about Matthew Jr.. Everything should be fine."_

_A muffled 'Mom!' came from the speaker as Claire said sharply, "I'm lost. I don't know what to do with him! I wish at least one my mothers were alive- they'd know how to get him to bed on time. Even my dad would be helpful."_

"_Well, being an adoptive father of a special, all I can say is to remind them that powers don't make the person." He paused, then laughed, "If only Nathan could see."_

_There was an abrupt silence. Mohinder immediately found himself sweating bullets. Was it the reference to flight or her biological father's view that stopped her?_

_Tapping the phone, he glanced at the invitation settled under a packet of files. "Claire, I will probably go to this meeting at Kirby Plaza, and Matt said that he is coming with Matty for an EHHCA check up. If you have anything you want to talk about, I'm sure that Matt would be willing to discuss Matty's condition in relation to Noah."_

"_Yes, thank you," Claire said in a strained tone. She was getting far away. "I might…do that. Good speaking to you, Mohinder."_

"_Goodbye Claire. Safe-"_

_The line had gone dead._

Terrible. The silence and reference to Nathan had been eating him up since then. He had gotten to thinking about the father of her special child. Due to her entire family's history of powers – both genetic and enhanced—it was not very hard to see that a non-special boyfriend had created a child with abilities. A special could have made the condition an inescapable prediction.

But showing these conditions at so early of an age was alarming. Or was it? Matty's had been long before the age of five.

No one knew where the angelic looking boy had come from. Mohinder had asked everyone from Hiro to the elder Noah before he had been restricted personal calls from prison. There had only ever been two suggestions.

Peter or Sylar.

Matt's reply to his insecurities about Claire Bennet's child had been blunt. Sylar. Despite the newly reformed, watch repairman's changing attitude toward acquiring abilities, he was the type of man to take advantage of a young woman and revel in the power. And he had visited her for years. Apparently, part of his changing had been Claire.

But ever since her stunt in Central Park, Peter had been in frequent contact with Claire; Mohinder knew from sending an inquiry to Micah down in New Orleans. He had confirmed it with telephone calls, emails, and several accesses to Peter's apartment from street level. They were all before Noah was born.

Mohinder didn't know if he liked it, but if he would choose a father for the dark-haired child, he hoped it was Peter.

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	3. West

_A/N: This poor kid gets no love. Give him some. And for those wondering who 'Sparrow' is, check on the online comics!_

_R.I.P. Heroes. We loved you well._

_Disclaimer: I do now own or take credit for the creation of _Heroes_. This is meant for entertainment use only._

**Warnings: None.**

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The Boy with Black Hair

_West Rosen_

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West wasn't surprised when he received an anonymous text.

This working business was hard. Slurping a can of cola, he was leaning against a fence in Central Park, watching Sparrow use her hands to help sow a small garden with two members of the EHHCA –including Tracy Strauss. Of course there were Robots everywhere –especially those humans who were ready with praise and seeds to be dropped in the openings. He had just taken a break from instructing new members to the EHHCA's cause and showing them how to deal with the public.

The phone buzzed. He flipped it open.

_Claire's baby's father unknown. You know?_

Oh god. _That_ again. Why did everyone suspect the ex-boyfriend? Lately, everyone had been asking him. Okay, maybe only Tracy Strauss. It had been a casual conversation West did not want to have with Micah.

_No._

As he shut his phone, his right hand held up the coke, allowing his teeth to gnaw at the straw. He frowned thoughtfully. That Peter Petrelli had seemed nice enough.

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	4. Tracy

_A/N: I imagined Tracy as a newly reformed special with a specials government job. Here she is._

_Disclaimer: I do not own or take credit for the creation of _Heroes_. This is meant for entertainment use only._

**Warnings: Slight mention of incest.**

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The Boy with Black Hair

_Tracy Strauss_

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The smile attached to her face was continuing to become plastic.

Sunk in her bare feet in a small plot of dirt, Tracy continued to shake hands and thank these volunteers for coming out to plant flowers. Small projects like this were helping to make a difference, despite a small newspaper article criticizing her change of careers. As the last man left, waving a well-tanned hand, she realized she didn't care.

This job suited her.

_She_ was the one who had started the Evolved Human Help and Control Administration, with the help of Micah, West, Sparrow, and Abigail. The four kids who had been fighting the good fight were serious about their futures; her background in politics had allowed the children to go through loopholes and get to the bottom of the matter. It was refreshing.

Tracy sighed. This job was getting more difficult day by day. She hadn't thought that there would be thousands of people pouring in, slow at first then like a tidal wave. She had wanted to speak to the founders of the Company about handling high priority and emergency cases. But there weren't many people left from the Company. Angela was gone. She had died only last year from a stroke; it must have been the stress and the graphic dreams that did her in. The elder Noah –not Claire's little brat- had finally been identified by quite a few abused specials and they had demanded his arrest. He was currently situated in a holding facility for crimes against specials.

Speaking of that blonde bimbo, Claire was all the controversy. Nobody knew who the baby's daddy was; the gossip could have been a television show for all she knew.

Incest was something Peter would _not_ be able to give in to, despite loving his niece. Ugh. She didn't even want to think about it. He was a great guy, but just thinking of him with Claire made Tracy want to gag.

Sylar was a much better fit, because with his power, he was going to stay around for as long as Claire was. Only last month, he had come into the New York office, anxiously asking if Claire had left him a message. Surprisingly, she had. It was in a small envelope, bound with a ribbon. Didn't that mean something was going on with them? Besides, he was pretty sexy, with that stubble around his chin.

Tracy glanced toward the sky, stretching her cramped back. She shook her feet free of mud and checked her watch. Lovely. Time to get moving; she needed to get West and Sparrow back to EHCCA for an interview with a future employee.

She didn't want to turn into Angela, and leave no one behind.

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	5. Hiro

_A/N: I don't know how to write Hiro. I know he's a matured quite a bit, but I'll always see him as...Hiro the Cubicle Worker who Stops Time and Looks for a Sword._

_Disclaimer: I do not own or take credit for the creation of_ Heroes. _This is meant for entertainment use only._

**Warnings: None.**

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The Boy with Black Hair

_Hiro Nakamura_

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Hiro Nakamura was lying awake in bed.

He stared at the ceiling. He could hear the clock ticking, and he resolved not to stop time so he wouldn't have to hear it. A hero did not use his powers selfishly.

There was so much to do. In a couple of days, he would be speaking to his employees being a special in a world of humans. Then, in a week, he was going to travel to New York; he wanted to check up on the people of the Sullivan Brothers Carnival he had saved. And why wouldn't he check up on the others? Matt Parkman, Jr., was still a favorite to visit.

Children. Hiro smiled. Time seemed to be flying since he now had a niece and a nephew; he loved to babysit and tell the wild children stories of Kensei and Star Wars and 9th Wonders and time traveling. He never forgot the time-traveling tricks! Ando didn't like it, but when he got mad and red sparks flew out of his hands, the kids wondered what had happened. They weren't unaware of specials.

He really needed to get away from the family business. There was too much stress with the specials affairs. Four people had announced that they were specials, and that if the Yamagato Fellowship were to fire them on behalf of their talents, the whole world would know of the CEO's secret. Hiro had personally needed to track them down, insisting that nothing would happen to their jobs; he had spent a considerable amount of time fascinated with their new powers and asking them how it worked. Four people's loyalty had taken nearly two months.

He wanted to see Claire sometime. After traveling into the past to solve the mystery of the catalyst, he wanted to speak to her about her own special baby. Ando's children could be special too, and Hiro was determined to be the ultimate uncle. He wondered if she could give him any tips. And Mohinder! He would have input.

Speaking of which…

He needed to talk to Peter. Peter knew how to be a good uncle.

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	6. Ando

_A/N: Ando. Ando is a good egg. I'll bet he's a good father. We never see enough of Kimiko either, so she's an added bonus. Any time a quote is in italics, it's in Japanese. I do not pretend to know anything about the Japanese language, so bear with me._

_Disclaimer: I do not own or take credit for the creation of _Heroes_. This is meant for entertainment use only._

**Warnings: Implied incest.**

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The Boy with Black Hair

_Ando Masahashi_

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In the large apartment, Ando pulled on his coat while watching his two Japanese children gaze up adoringly from Hiro's shoes. The smaller one –his girl, Emi- was older than her brother – Kenji. The sound of water over clinking dishes came from the sink; Kimiko was finishing up the dinner matters behind the granite counter.

A squeal came from the living room, distinctly feminine. Emi's fingers clenched into Hiro's loose pants, black hair pooling around her face. "Magic! Magic!" she said, while eleven-month-year-old Kenji wobbled on his bottom, weaving back and forth. Both were exhausted from playing with Hiro, who somehow managed time to babysit. Like tonight, he was going to allow Kimiko and Ando to go out to a fancy dinner when he had a million things to do in the company.

"No," the overly friendly uncle was saying in English, "You must be patient. A hero's powers are not used in vain." He patted their heads.

Ando sighed. "_They don't know what half of those words mean._"

Laughing, Hiro nodded, making goo-goo eyes at Kenji. The baby squealed. "I am trying to teach them English, like I learned. My sister teaches them Japanese. They _will_ be bilingual."

"Okay, okay, okay." The timer on Ando's watch beeped. Five minutes. He trotted to the kitchen, where his fine-haired wife was wiping her hands on a soft cloth. Her petite frame was already in shape after the baby boy's birth, and her business suit was spotless and unwrinkled. Perfect Kimiko. "_Are you ready to go? Hiro can do those._"

Her hand came up to brush her straight hair away from her face; her tender eyes blinked. With a shake of her head, she frowned. "_I'm not helpless_."

Ando nodded, kissing her forehead. "_We've got to go or we'll be late._"

"_I will keep the children safe and entertained_," Hiro had followed him into the well-light kitchen; the lights from Tokyo reflected off of his glasses as he bowed to his unsmiling sibling. "_Tomorrow will come soon, sister. Then you will not have a babysitter on-hand._"

He took his best friend's hand, and patted his sister's arm, gently shooing them away to the apartment door. He said, "_Go!_"

XXX

The sounds were quiet on their ears: muffled footsteps, elevator music, and sirens in the streets. There were ten people dressed in fancy clothes all around them, waiting for even a table to sit. Soft lights shone down upon the Japanese couple shook their heads.

Kimiko gave Ando a look. "_You got a reservation?_"

"_Yes!_" he sighed, exasperated. With a hand on his wife's lower back, he moved them forward to the desk. "_I made it weeks ago._"

"_Good_," Kimiko laughed, running a hand through her hair as they reached the front desk. A woman with ebony hair was huddled over paperwork. Upon their approach, she glanced up at them with bright blue eyes.

Ando cleared his throat. "_Hello, I have a reservation-_"

"_Hello Mr. Masahashi. Mrs. Masahashi_," the woman said with a smile, "Your table is waiting."

Ando blinked at her quick attention. "_Oh. Thank you_."

She gracefully grabbed two menus and led them into a small eating arena. On the floor were off-white tiles, enhanced by splashes of scarlet, cyan, and green. An ornamental rug –probably from a top-of-the-line decorator- covered most of it in a swatch of tan; it was business, like a paper company floor. There weren't any windows, but the lights in the corners gave off their fair share of ambient light. Even the plants were real, carefully cultivated. The table was set in the middle, with two shining black leather seats.

His feet found their way to a chair nearest Kimiko; he held it out while she sat down. Quickly moving to the other side, he sat down. The hostess walked off briskly, heels clicking on the floor. Soft music played over her absence.

Kimiko was beautiful with her high-cheekbones and her luscious ebony hair falling. Her suit was tailored just right around her waist and shoulders. Ando smiled, reaching across the table to touch her wrist. "_You are beautiful_," he said. She blushed.

"_Thank you, Ando._" His wife leaned forward, nose brushing the flower on the table. "_This will probably be the last dinner that we have between us for a while, huh?_"

There was a split second of silence before the man sat back in his seat. He frowned in confusion. "_Why?_"

_"Hiro is leaving to see Claire's baby in two weeks._" Kimiko frowned. "_Don't you remember?_"

"_Oh yes..._" Ando shook away the odd feeling that came over him. Claire. Baby. The waitress appeared suddenly between the doors, carrying water goblets and wine in her slender arms. Ando tried to bury the thoughts as he listened to his wife order food.

It didn't work. He felt his thoughts subconsciously drift to Peter, the _uncle, _without meaning to. Peter and Claire had really hit it off after the events of the carnival. And then the baby had been born. He prayed Peter wasn't the father. He was Claire's _uncle_. If Hiro made any move on Emi, Ando would personally see to it that Hiro was permanently out of their life, whatever it took. What kind of sick guy would actually do that to his flesh and blood?

Better a serial killer on the edge than an uncle.

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	7. Matt

_A/N: __He's hard to write. I don't know what goes on in his head. I just think that he's one of those parents who will do anything for the good of their child. ANYTHING._

_Disclaimer: I do not own or take credit for the creation of _Heroes_. This is meant for entertainment use only._

**Warnings: Implied incest.**

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The Boy with Black Hair

_Matthew Parkman_

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Nothing was worse than getting a late flight from L.A. –early really at four o' clock in the morning- only to find that Matty _hated_ airplanes. After forty-five minutes on the tarmack, the disgruntled baby finally fell asleep with a gentle mind push from his frustrated father. It made the engines come back online within two seconds.

Ten thousand feet up, the elder Matthew realized that maybe it wasn't such a good idea.

If Matty woke suddenly in a fit of angst and caused the plane to lurch, Matt didn't know what he would do. What if they landed on some deserted island? He would probably knock the baby out again but God, he hated to do that! The bundle of life in his lap didn't deserve to be restrained like that! The airport –JFK International- never looked so incredibly wonderful from the sky.

It was a million degrees outside, and while holding a screaming child Matt realized that really, he hated traveling. He just wanted to stay home in the air-conditioned house with Janet and go to work like a normal human. Such endless torment, all for a checkup for Matty and himself at the EHCCA, seeing Molly (now in college in the U.S.), and the chance to gossip about the paternity of Claire's baby. Tracy always made great conversation.

Speaking of Sylar…

That guy would never restore his mind to the way it once worked as a watchmaker; there was no more innocence to be found in the mind of Sylar. How could he help except for turning himself in for his crimes? If anything had happened down in that cellar, it was disaster. Peter had nearly been trapped, and if there was one thing that Matt didn't want, it was a dead Peter. Peter deserved a good life after everything he'd been through.

And if he was the father...uh.

Matty began squealing. Matt hoped the checkup wouldn't last. It was awkward enough talking about special babies without bringing in Claire and her baby of unknown parentage.

_Ah, don't I love Mondays?_

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	8. Claire and Noah Jr

_A/N: This is where it all started. This is the end. Thanks to all the reviewers on previous chapters!_

___Disclaimer: I do now own or take credit for the creation of _Heroes___. This is meant for entertainment use only._

**Warnings: Gossip, implied incest and rape.**

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The Boy with Black Hair

_Claire and Noah Jr. Bennet_

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The taxi from the airport seemed to be crawling toward the apartment. The air of New York was hot and muggy, and the seats were infested with dirt, candy wrappers, and other things Claire didn't want to think about. Noah was finding those _particularly_ interesting.

Dressed in a bright green jacket and stained jeans, her baby boy was seated next to her, feet bouncing playfully.

Marco, the red-haired driver, glanced back with a handsome grin. "Having fun buddy?" His eyes lingered on Claire's face through the rearview mirror; she gave a sickly-sweet smile before spying out the grubby window. She didn't want to be hit on today, of all days. What made her gag was that in a hundred years, guys his age were _still_ going to be hitting on her. Noah kicked the seat again and nodded, clenching his mom's hand.

"Mom-! I want out."

Claire smiled, touching his cheek. "Yes, mister. Just you wait like five minutes." She glanced outside to the skyscrapers with a quiet face.

The road wasn't clogged, but the pedestrians darting in and out of traffic made it all the more difficult to find a path. Finally, the apartment building came around the corner in all splendid brick; the driver pulled over, sneaking in between a minivan and a bus of tourists. The blonde beauty pressed the money into Marco's hand, curtly thanking him while grasping Noah's hand. "Ready?" she asked, checking for her wallet and phone. Having a heart attack would be kinda wrong in front of her son.

"Yep."

The street and mini plaza spread out before the couple in its concrete glory. Crowds of people in jeans and slacks and dresses were walking in masses past food vendors; a couple of children were eyeing it, like they wanted to beg for food. Claire felt a wry frown tugging her lips as the shadow of the building cooled her face. She pulled on the smooth metal handle of the front door of the apartment. Cold air conditioning hit her face and she herded the five-year-old into the white-washed lobby. There had to be three people wandering around. She gave a slight smile to the doorman.

"I want to talk about flying with Peta," Noah bounced on his feet, teeth shining bright. "And Gabey!" His eyes grew devious. "Will he take me to the moon?"

Claire laughed, approaching the stairwell. Their room was only on the third floor. "No. Talk to Peter about flying instead."

"You can come with us!"

"Peter's taken me up bef-"

Noah began sprinting up the stairs -her hand grasped firmly in his- before she had a chance to brace herself; the blonde woman felt her arm jolt in her socket. "Slow down, Noah!" she said sharply, resulting in a nasty glare from her son. "Hey, I'm in high heeled shoes. Do you want your mom to break her neck?"

The dark eyes gazing up at her were confused. "You can't break your neck."

"Okay, I'll admit it," she brushed Noah's hair back from his high cheekbones. Just gazing into his beautiful eyes made her heart warm. Smiling, she remembered Peter's latest advice about kids- speak to them like they are adults, and let them ask questions. Lots of questions.

The two reached their flight and came out onto the hallway, arms outstretched. Claire ruffled his hair. She fiddled for her keys, setting them into the lock. "Hold on one second..." she muttered, twisting it and hitting the handle with her hand.

The door swung open with a bang and Noah flew towards the couch; halfway there, the little kid's feet hovered a few inches off the floor. The blanket followed over his head, covering him as he made a wooshing noise. Claire grinned, shutting it and deadbolting the lock. She was certain that her son's ability was fate's way of coming back to kick her in the pants. Her son had her ex-boyfriend's and father's ability. Not good.

Everyone she talked to from her old life- Hiro, Ando, Matt, Mohinder- believed that either Sylar or Peter was the father. She sighed, putting her purse onto the granite counter. Light streamed in from the clean window, causing Claire to take a deep, relaxing breath. She never wanted to tell. Never.

Nobody had even known she was pregnant. She had constantly been on the move ever since she had jumped from the Sullivan Bros. Ferris Wheel; from New York to Chicago, then New Mexico, and California...the places had never seemed to be far enough away from the destruction she'd caused. When the EHHCA started, she had made one or two appearances to support the cause before the fear and guilt eating her stomach overtook her again.

And then she met _him_. One night of lusty, needy sex and a month later, she was heaving vomit down the toilet.

When the time to give birth came around, she checked in to the Coste Verde Hospital with more than a hint of nostalgia. Both her mothers were dead, her father in jail, and no contacts to call. She had thought she was strong and smart enough to escape even the special trackers. Heaving and panting and screaming with sweat running down her face, Claire was certain that she could have a baby. She would have to get a different name, a different social security number, a different life...

And then, out of the blue, Peter and Gabriel had been escorted into the waiting room, stating her fake name. Even disguised in blue scrubs, Peter was beginning to look more mature without the boyish charm and the serial-killer was deadly serious with his bright eyes. She hadn't had time to brush them aside or demand they be removed.

Noah had been born.

She'd forgotten about the two people; all she'd wanted was to hold her baby tightly in her arms.

In the recovery room -and while Peter was walking around with Noah Jr.- she'd asked Gabe about knowing where she was. He'd shrugged. One day, Peter had bashed in his apartment door and told him that if they didn't fly to Coste Verde in two minutes, Claire would be giving birth without any support. That's all it had taken.

Peter and Gabe. They had been her life support as she rested: they watched and fussed over Noah Jr., mediated payment to the hospital, processed all the paperwork, and eventually, drove her to a home that Gabriel had along the coast of California. They hadn't interrogated her. Claire noticed a certain feeling mirrored from her eyes to the two men. They loved Noah without ever knowing about him previously. When Peter had rocked Noah to sleep, there was a part of Claire that felt…at home. Once, Gabe had even held Noah, like he held Matty while situated in Parkman's body. And more importantly, Claire had trusted him to hold her baby.

She trusted them.

It was ridiculous that anyone would say either her uncle or a serial killer was the father of her baby. She had gotten to a point where she ignored any text or call about her boy.

"Hey do you want some lunch?" she called, watching as the lump on the couch made more zooming noises. He had somehow managed to wrestle his shoes off; one was kicked off just below the window and the other was under a spider-plant in the corner. How he accomplished any of the Houdini acts, Claire would never know.

A muffled "Yes!" was her response.

She laughed, beginning to pull out fruit from the refrigerator and simultaneously grabbing a cutting board and sharp knife. Tucked away in the very back, there was a plethora of reds and oranges and yellows. Claire began washing them in the sink. Her hands were guiding a knife into a ripe mango, the flesh parting. She settled comfortably in the light kitchen, mincing fruit on a tray. Bananas, apples, and strawberries were steadily arranged on the platter in a flower shape as only Claire could do. It was the only way to get Noah to eat anything besides processed chicken nuggets.

The shrill ring of her cell phone rang. Hastily wiping her fingers free from fruit juice, she answered without looking at the caller ID, "Hello?"

"_Hey, Claire_," Peter's voice came through the speaker, "_I wondered if you wanted to get a coffee_."

"Peter," Claire recognized that he hadn't really been downtown, he just wanted to call her; that thought made her laugh. "You know I picked Noah up from school at two. And you don't go downtown because you're a work-a-holic, Mr. Nurse."

The voice laughed. "_You got me. How has Noah been? I mean, besides stealing cookies out of the cookie jar_."

Claire shrugged, and nearly dropped the phone. She shifted from her left foot to her right. "He's been bragging about flying. I'm trying to tell him it's something to be proud of, but prudently used. He doesn't care." Claire's mouth twisted. The thought made a part of her afraid. The knife sped up in her fingers, biting into the fruit. "Just like Nathan."

"_Have the kids been teasing him at school?_"

The single-mother threw her blonde head, putting her anger down. "He doesn't say. I've asked the teachers and they don't seem to notice." Her eyes gazed worriedly toward the living room and her son, who was jumping off onto the floor. "Does that mean I'm just overreacting? Does he only do it at home? I'm so sick of not knowing what to expect."

The dark haired man began soothing her, saying, "_I think all mothers go through that-_"

"Alone?" The sharp tone bit like a bullet; she winced at the tone. "Sorry. I didn't mean that." Elbows bracing her petite form, Claire sank into the granite countertop, lowering her head. "Noah wants a father." She didn't know why she had said it.

There was an awkward silence before Peter hesitantly asked, "_Do you want to talk about it?_"

Tears rolling down her smooth face, Claire nodded, fingers hastily batting at her green eyes. Frowning, she stated, "He told me four weeks ago that a kid in his class had told him he was a bastard. They told him that his dad didn't want him, that his mother was a whore." Her shoulders quivered. "I can't let that continue. I can't."

Peter was quiet for a moment; Claire could hear his quiet breath on the other end, gentle. Then he said, "_You remember after Noah's birth? Gabe and I were there for you then, and we are here for you now. Gabriel would do anything you asked_," his sincerity made Claire began quietly sobbing just picturing the two of her friends consoling her, "_I_ _would do anything for you._"

"But what can I tell Noah?" she sniffed, trying to pat away the tears. "These...these kids don't understand. I don't understand what happened."

"_Tell him the truth: that you love him and no matter what anyone says, that will never change. Noah is a great part of your life now. I know you. You would never be ashamed of hi_m." Peter let her cry. After the silence, Peter said, "_When you called me at 2:43 in the morning to tell me about Noah's flu last spring, I was ready to leave. Gabe was too. After everything, you'll always be first Claire...to both of us. We can be part of your life. We probably will. Always_."

"Pete," she smiled through the agony in her chest.

A small chuckle came. "_Some people will do anything to tear you and Noah down. Your son is yours. How can he belong to another man when we're his favorite two uncles?_"

The load on her shoulders slightly lifted. Claire watched Noah peer over the back of the sofa at her, huge blue eyes hungrily staring at the fruit. She laughed, blinking her eyes clear of tears. In five minutes, Peter had made her day. "Listen, I've got to go, Peter." She motioned for Noah to come over, "I've got a ravenous animal ready to eat."

"_Nice to talk to you, Claire_," Peter insisted, "_Tell me when Gabe or I can come over. He's been chatting up a storm about going flying_."

"I will," she whispered, "Thank you. Bye."

"_Bye, Claire._"

With a click, he was gone. Noah came around the counter, hugging her leg. "Food?" he asked, "I'm hungry mom." His eyes smiled charmingly up at her, making her heart swell with pride.

She smiled. Peter was right.

The boy with black hair was hers.

_0_

_0_


End file.
